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<title>'you're never going to kick the ball straight like that' by nymeriahale</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25784686">'you're never going to kick the ball straight like that'</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/nymeriahale/pseuds/nymeriahale'>nymeriahale</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>prompt fills [29]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Rugby RPF, Rugby Union RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, Sharing Clothes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 08:15:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>712</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25784686</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/nymeriahale/pseuds/nymeriahale</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>As George steps up to the tee Owen can see the tension he’s holding in his body, even if he hadn’t noticed George wrapping his arms around himself ten minutes ago, even if Owen hadn’t already seen the shivers George is trying to suppress - he's freezing.</p>
<p>“You’re never gonna kick the ball straight like that,” Owen sighs, pulling his jumper off.</p>
<p>“I’m fine,” George lies.</p>
<p>Owen tosses the jumper straight as his head for that. “We can trade off when you get warm and I get cold.”</p>
<p>The suggestion seems to appease George, and he pulls the jumper over his head. “Thank you, Owen.”</p>
<p>Owen shrugs. “Any time,” he offers, eyes lingering on his initials at George’s hip.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Owen Farrell/George Ford</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>prompt fills [29]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/396019</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>'you're never going to kick the ball straight like that'</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for the prompt: Can i request an Owen pov? Owen gives George his jacket/hoodie because George looks cold (and really cute in his stuff)</p>
<p>Set in 2018 at the Portugal training camp pre-Autumn Internationals, and in hyf verse if you want it to be!</p>
<p>This is a work of fiction and as such nothing is to be considered implied or insinuated about real life rugby players.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Owen frowns as his kick goes wide, turns to George with a question in his eyes.</p>
<p>“Your hips,” George tells him.</p>
<p>Owen thinks about it, grunts acceptance - they were angled a little off, now George mentions it. </p>
<p>What George isn’t mentioning is that he’s freezing. As he steps up to the tee Owen can see the tension he’s holding in his body, even if he hadn’t noticed George wrapping his arms around himself ten minutes ago, even if Owen hadn’t already seen the shivers George is trying to suppress.</p>
<p>“You’re never gonna kick the ball straight like that,” Owen sighs, pulling his jumper off.</p>
<p>“I’m fine,” George lies, rolling his eyes.</p>
<p>Owen tosses the jumper straight as his head for that. “We can trade off when you get warm and I get cold.”</p>
<p>The suggestion seems to appease George, and he pulls the jumper over his head. </p>
<p>“This is warm,” he says, with a small smile. “Thank you, Owen.”</p>
<p>Owen shrugs. “Any time,” he offers, eyes lingering on his initials at George’s hip.</p>
<p>It’s only practical that the clothes in England are marked with their initials, the identical outfits being impossible to keep track of otherwise. Owen is only thinking about that, when he takes a second to look away. </p>
<p>George does kick better  when he’s warmed up enough to relax, doesn’t miss another kick all session. He also doesn’t offer Owen’s jumper back, not even as they meander their way to the front door of the villa they’re sharing with Ben and Jonny.</p>
<p>Owen showers and comes out to George still wearing it; George showers and comes out having pulled it back on. He glances at Owen as he comes to his regular spot on the sofa next to him, lets a sly smile slip. </p>
<p>He’s doing it on purpose.</p>
<p>That makes it worse, makes it better, it doubles the significance Owen had read into his clothes on George’s body to know that George has given them weight too, has chosen it. </p>
<p>Ben and Jonny don’t notice, the letters of Owen’s initials small and inconsequential on George’s body to anyone except the two of them.</p>
<p>It takes hours for Jonny to finally realise, his eyes catching on the material of the jumper as George stands, stretches. “’S big on you,” he comments, offhand.</p>
<p>“Aw, Fordy, did you want England to think you’d grown in the off season, ask for a bigger size?” Ben teases.</p>
<p>“Fuck off,” George rolls his eyes, and Owen with him. As if England need to ask for their sizes.</p>
<p>“Hey, is that -” Jonny leans forwards, reaches out.</p>
<p>George steps away, covering the letters with his hand.</p>
<p>“- are you wearing Owen’s jumper?” Jonny blinks at them in confusion. “I wouldn’t’ve thought you’d let your room get messy enough to mix things up like that!”</p>
<p>Owen laughs at George’s neat reputation. “Georgie got cold at kicking, I loaned him this.”</p>
<p>“I forgot it was yours,” George laughs under his breath, the way he’s rubbing Owen’s initials between his fingertips marking the lie.</p>
<p>“That’s what you did with the ten shirt and all!” Ben puts in, the three of them joining his delighted laughter with a degree of additional reservation.</p>
<p>“Well, I’ll give you this one back,” George switches his hold of Owen’s initials to a grip of the hem.</p>
<p>“No need,” Owen reaches up from his seat to still George’s hand.</p>
<p>George cocks his head to the side. “I was going to bed anyway.”</p>
<p>“I’ll come with you, had enough of these two.”</p>
<p>They leave an offended chorus behind, retreating to the privacy of their room. </p>
<p>Owen stalks the entire way behind George, practically stepping on his heels, only accepting distance to seal the door behind them before he’s pressing himself to George’s back, pressing closer. “You like wearing my jumper?” he asks, one hand slipping beneath it to rest on George’s bare hip and the other coming to where George is still running absent fingers over Owen’s initials, stilling them. </p>
<p>George shrugs, letting his head fall back onto Owen’s shoulder. “You like me wearing your jumper?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” Owen answers simply, squeezing his hold on George.</p>
<p>George twists his hand to entangle their fingers over Owen’s initials, rests his other hand over Owen’s at his hip. “Yes,” he agrees.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>No <i>thunder</i> update this week, sorry all! Please accept a few prompt fills I did on tumblr back in May as an apology - we should be back to normal next week. As always I can be found on <a href="http://twitter.com/nymeriahale">twitter</a> and both my <a href="http://nymeriahale.tumblr.com">main</a> and <a href="http://fordfarrell.tumblr.com">rugby</a> tumblrs, and would love to hear from you either there or in the comments!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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